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“Yes. We have several cabins on the property. Follow me.” Peter leads us outside.

I grab our bags from the back of the car and we circle round the back of the tasting barn before crossing an open paddock. Nestled beside a couple of ancient gums is a small cabin with a wide deck, complete with firepit, fairy lights and a porch swing. It couldn’t be more romantic, although I stopped short of organising rose petals. Which maybe … no. Too much.

Without climbing the steps to the cabin, Peter hands over the key, says his goodnights and leaves us in the gathering dusk.

The sight of the tiny cabin, that as well as having only one bedroom, has only one bed, sets my fingers tingling. This is make or break. But Louise is so busy looking at the view, she doesn’t even notice the cabin.

I mount the stairs and drop our bags inside the door.

“There’s still a little bit of light left. Do you fancy a walk?” I suggest.

Yes, this is me putting off the moment of truth. There’s so much riding on this. Not only would stuffing this up risk the business, but for the first time since my mother died, there’s someone I don’t think I could bear to lose.

But it’s become impossible to ignore my feelings. To keep them bottled up.

“Sure. That would be nice.”

Rather than opening the gate, Louise swings her leg over it and drops down into a paddock where a dozen or so black-faced sheep are grazing.

No sooner have her boots hit the ground than they’re trotting towards her.

“Oh, I think they might want food.” She laughs as they nuzzle her hands and nibble on the pockets of her jeans.

“I think there was a tin of feed pellets on the table in the cabin. Wait here.”

I leg it back to the cabin, and sure enough, there’s a tin on the counter with pellets clearly meant for animals. By the time I get back to Louise, a few small kangaroos have joined the throng. She’s been backed up against the fence by the hungry horde, so I reach over and lift her back onto the other side of the fence, from where she can safely hold out handfuls of food.

Her distraction gives me an opportunity. Leaving her with the food, I head back to the cabin, lighting the firepit that was already laid ready and waiting on the verandah.

I connect my phone to the Bluetooth speaker and queue up the pop playlist I prepared for tonight. This one is a little slower, moodier and less bouncy than the one I played in the car; the songs chosen for their lyrics more than their energy. But I don’t hit play yet, because I can’t bear to drown out her gurgling laugh as she feeds the sheep. It’s hitting me square in the chest.

Checking she’s still sufficiently distracted by the clamouring sheep and kangaroos, I nip into the bathroom and change my shirt. Then I grab the bottle of wine and glasses Peter left for us and walk back out onto the deck, just as Louise dusts her hands off, the last of the food having been hoovered up.

I put the wine and glasses on a low table and hit play on my phone. The haunting opening bars of ‘Never Tear Us Apart’ soar over the evening calls of magpies.

Even from this distance I see her eyes pop out of her head as she turns towards the deck and spots me beside the fire pit. I’m wearing the red satin shirt and feather boa from our Priscilla, Queen of the Desert night in Bullibingal. The night we finally gave in to what had been brewing between us since the day she presented the idea we’re now bringing to life together.

Our gazes collide. Cling. Silence stretches under the sweep of the violins. Despite the cool of a late autumn evening. the air feels too hot and thick to breathe. I wait. I’d wait a month, a year, a lifetime. But it’s no more than a moment or two before a wide smile breaks on her precious lips. A hand comes up to cover her heart and she speaks.

“Why, Jasper Spencer-Jones, are you … are you wooing me?”

“Is it working?”

Chapter Fifty

Louise

My heart and lungs are exploding out of my chest.

It’s hard to tell from this distance, and in this low light, but I’d swear Jasper is blushing.

His smile is shy, almost tentative. He’s always tended towards being quiet, even to the point of reticence, but I’ve never known him to be shy. Which surely can only mean one thing. This is as important to him as it is to me.

I can’t hold back any longer.

My feet are moving across the grass. Faster and faster. Up the three steps. They leave the ground as I leap into his arms, peppering his face with kisses, wet from the tears that are streaming down my face.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jasper manages to get out before my lips land firmly on his.